Woman on Top Page 25

  “It might not mean much, but if I can ever be of any assistance to you, please don’t ever hesitate to ask. Even though I have no idea what I could do to possibly match all you’ve done for me. You make a great mentor.”

  “Tiffany, I hope by now you’d consider us friends, and that eventually you might reconsider my offer,” she said, closing her hands around mine, her eyes squinting, like always, giving the hint of something else impossible to read.

  “I’d like that, us being friends,” I said, feeling a little lightheaded as we were now standing directly against the half glass wall that surrounded her deck.

  “Before you go, I want to let you know that if this fight with your husband gets dirty, I mean divorce, custody or anything, you call me first. I have the best attorneys and we can keep everything confidential.”

  “Thanks, but I’m praying that won’t be necessary.”

  “It’s my understanding the Mayor needs some forgiving as well,” she said, letting me know she knew about his relationship with Tootie.

  “We’ve both made mistakes; unfortunately mine became national news.”

  “You do realize that this press conference is going to change the course of your life forever.”

  I gave a little laugh and said, “That one photo has already changed the course of my life. Right now, all I want is to be normal, to be back with my daughter and my husband.”

  “Trust me, you’re bigger than your husband.”

  Chapter 23

  #FLOP ~ She’s Sorry

  Splashed across the headlines, “#FLOP She’s Sorry,” made me easy fodder for daytime talk shows, as well as great monologues for Kimmel, Fallon and Bill Maher, and without even being a celebrity, a hot topic on Wendy Williams.

  I refused to watch the news, read the papers, or fall prey to the comments on social media. I let Janae and Michael keep me updated on anything that was relevant, including the fact that my press conference had been viewed and downloaded on YouTube over 80 thousand times. Each morning, I didn’t know whom the press would focus on – my husband or me. And of course there was always some great news about Haney and his rising star as a community activist. As much as I wanted to, I still hadn’t had the chance to speak with him and I doubted I ever would. Surprisingly, he hadn’t taken advantage of the photo; even when given the opportunity for a sound bite, he was gracious.

  “The taking, and the releasing of that photo was an unfortunate incident to which I did not take part. I admire Mrs. Skinner’s courage and resilience, and only have the highest respect for her.”

  Phinn was still driving me and even more so, with my newfound popularity. He was protecting me from those religious groups and Republican women’s organizations that shunned and labeled me a Jezebel. Democrats, of course, believed that if the Mayor couldn’t watch over his wife, then how could he be trusted to watch over the city? Even with a situation so personal, there were not only critics, but also experts and pundits. I was even being criticized by some about my expensive wardrobe. Raquel had been right, I’d become a martyr for some women and a Jezebel for others.

  My family life was not much better. Malik and I communicated via text messages and voicemails and we shuffled Nylah between home, my parents and Nanny, which is where he was staying. Needless to say, our daughter had questions as to why Daddy wasn’t home with us, and my response was that Nanny needed his help, but my defenses were withering. I at least wanted to know where all this was going to end up.

  Nevertheless, here I was at the Pennsylvania Convention Center about to be introduced by the First Lady of Pennsylvania, Frances Wolf, to 8,000 women eager to hear me speak. There hadn’t been much time for preparation. The press conference had been on Monday and here it was Thursday, and I was running on pure adrenaline, made up of caffeine and sugar. I knew that if I didn’t rest soon, I was going to collapse.

  Wearing a cobalt blue dress, flared at the bottom, with silver buttons down the back, my hair, which had grown three inches, was swept to one side, since I’d promised Max I wouldn’t wear a bun.

  Michael and Sasha had written a twenty-minute speech, not to divert attention from the affair, but to make it about all women who’d been scorned because of transgressions beyond our control. It was about taking our power back, which I hadn’t even begun to do, yet here I was.

  Sasha greeted me backstage, excited that I had this opportunity. “These women are going to love you!” she exclaimed.

  “Sasha, I wanna thank you for all of this. I don’t know what I would’ve done had you not called.”

  “I believe I recall you wanted to run away to Montauk, but not even a week later, look at you now.”

  Anxiously, Michael and I stood at the side of the stage until we heard Mrs. Wolf say, “. . . and with that I give you the First Lady of Philadelphia, Tiffany Johnson-Skinner.”

  Not only was there applause when I walked out onto the stage and hugged Mrs. Wolf, but these women were on their feet.

  “Good afternoon. . . it is very humbling and might I say overwhelming to stand before such an esteemed body of women today. . . and might I add a little confusing. I’m sure you’ll agree that we all have to own our successes, as well as our failures. Recently my failure, might I call it a misstep, was epic and because of that lapse in judgment, I almost allowed myself to be shamed into silence. . .”

  The audience shouted, “No! No! No!”

  “We, as women, are to be commended. I am proud of being a wife, a mother, a daughter, a sister and still the First Lady of this city. But I could not be any of those things without first being a woman of substance and value. Did I fall short? Yes. Did I put myself in a compromising position? Yes, but it’s not who I am. That one moment in my life doesn’t define Tiffany Johnson-Skinner. We all live praiseworthy and admirable lives, even when we make a mistake. . . see walls that aren’t there. . . recognize our self-worth. . . empower all of us. . . what affects one, affects us all. . .

  “Who would’ve thought that because of my transgressions that I’d become the popular ‘girl’. . . who is now known on social media with the hash tag FLOP, with 141,000 followers. . . WOW!”

  The audience gave me another encouraging round of applause while I momentarily imagined telling this audience that my husband wasn’t without blame as he was in a longstanding relationship with a woman whom I thought was only his childhood friend. These women had no idea the insecurities his affair had now given me, especially with the woman he’d chosen. What sickened me the most though was wondering if he was Sheema’s father?

  “The challenges we face in business and in our personal lives. . . differ from men. A few months ago, I spearheaded a project. . . my dream of helping our children, turned into the Blessed Babies Wellness Center. . . today it’s about all of us as a collective body. . . of resilient, persevering, and powerful women, we can’t give up and we can’t let those dreams die. . .”

  The applause drowned me out as they rose to their feet chanting, “FLOP, FLOP, FLOP!”

  “. . . In the words of Alice Walker, ‘The most common way people, ‘women’ give up their power, is by thinking they don’t have any.’ As women, we have the power and we can do better. Thank you!”

  I couldn’t have imagined the applause of 8,000 women, it was deafening. With Mrs. Wolf, Raquel Turner-Cosby, and other notable women coming to stand beside me, I wiped away tears as we held hands high in the air for everyone to see. I was no martyr and didn’t want to be the spokesperson for all women. And for as strong as they’d made me feel on that stage, I wanted to be home with my family.

  When I walked backstage to where Michael, Janae, and Sasha were waiting, the first thing Janae said was, “I think you just became a rock star.”

  It took more than an hour to get out of there, with the throngs of women wanting to personally meet me, shake my hand, and give me hugs. Business cards and phone numbers were handed to Michael and Janae with requests for interviews and speaking engagements. Thankfully, Phinn provided spa
ce between me and the reporters, who followed us to the curb taking pictures and hoping for a sound bite.

  Afterward, the four of us headed to a private room at the Capital Grille, where I insisted that Phinn come inside and join us. I couldn’t think of a better way to thank them than by treating them to lunch.

  During that time, I took a moment to tell Janae that she was getting a raise, and for Michael, he’d now been officially hired as my publicist, at least until all this popularity blew over. As much as I wanted to do something special for Phinn, he refused to accept anything I offered. Sasha, who’d come to my rescue, all she wanted was for me to take advantage of the full plate I was being offered.

  If I thought I’d received invitations before the press conference, the days that followed my speech were unbelievable. Everyone wanted my time and they were willing to pay. However, I had no desire to fill the role because it had been a week since the photo and I still hadn’t heard from Kamille or Malik. I could learn to live without Malik, but not without my sister. However, having had a brief conversation with Brandon, he’d explained to me that Kamille was mad at both Mr. Haney and me.

  On the other hand, Malik wasn’t faring too well with his female constituents. There’d been no statement from him, his Tweets were all about the business of the City, and he refused to respond to reporters’ questions about the status of our marriage. The public was ridiculing him for not standing by me – holding my hand like so many wives had done for their politician husbands. He was being crucified on daytime talk shows and even Saturday Night Live had done a parody on the First Family of Philadelphia.

  But finally after two weeks, the call came. Malik wanted to meet, but what was odd was that he hadn’t called me; he’d reached out to Sasha. This made me realize that whatever he had planned had more to do with this image than our marriage.

  Making certain to get to Platinum Images before Malik, with Phinn at the wheel, we drove out to Montauk, both lost in our own thoughts.

  I arrived at nine forty-five a.m. Standing beside my open car door, Phinn asked, “You gonna be all right in there?”

  “How bad could it be? He’s my husband,” I joked.

  “I’m here if you need me. . . Mrs. Baker.”

  We both laughed, then I hugged him. “Thanks, Mr. Baker.”

  Not having seen Malik since that awful night, I had no idea how we would interact with each other. But I knew there’d be tension for both of us. I prayed for the best. Malik arrived twenty minutes late, appearing less than polished, in jeans and a button down white shirt.

  Greeting him, Sasha said, “Good morning, Mayor Skinner, please have a seat. Can I get you anything?”

  “No, let’s just get this over with,” he said, taking the seat closest to the door and the furthest from me.

  What did he want to get over with? A divorce? A custody discussion? In that case, I would need a lawyer.

  “I’m sure you’re here because you’ve seen your wife’s press conference and heard the feedback. My question is, what are your plans for handling it?”

  “I’m running the city, that’s how I’m handling it.”

  “Which means you’ll be seeking re-election and you can’t do that without Mrs. Skinner.”

  Shrugging his shoulders, he said, “I can’t have a wife like her, she’s a –”

  “Please no name calling and could you not refer to your wife in the third person.”

  “I came here to hear what you had to say, not to make amends with my wife.”

  Glaring at him, I wanted to let loose my own rage by telling him I knew about his relationship with Tootie, and about Blu having me followed, but Sasha’s cutting eye warned me not to because so far, Malik had no idea that Tootie was behind the photo.

  “In that case, your wife can leave now, but you’ll be kissing your election goodbye. Is that what you want?”

  His face was shrouded in defeat. Silently, Malik drummed his fingers against the table, while I cringed, anticipating what he might say.

  “Don’t be a coward, Mayor Skinner. No one will judge you for taking your wife back, and what do you care if they do, so long as you get re-elected?”

  “Excuse me, but I stand on very high morals and they don’t include photos of my wife having sex with another man.”

  “Malik, I’m sorry. . .” But I stopped short when he wouldn’t even look at me.

  “Right now, morals, photos or whatever, your wife owns these votes. It’s women who carry your election. They have the influence, and right now they’re standing behind Mrs. Skinner.”

  Finally acknowledging me by casting a hateful glance my way, he said, “The state of my re-election does not depend on her.”

  “Then why’d you call this meeting?”

  “I need this cleaned up and you said you could help,” Malik told her.

  “Then let’s proceed. Your next step after the Mayor’s office is in one of two directions, Senator or Governor. Once you get re-elected, you can do what you want. But right now, you need to publicly forgive your wife, and tell your voters that the two of you are working it out. Had this been in the reverse. . .”

  “She wouldn’t have stood by me.”

  I couldn’t respond to that because he was right.

  “I’m not doing that,” he said. “I’m not working it out.”

  “Like it or not, you’re both public figures now, with hard choices to make. And if you don’t choose your wife, you won’t have a political career. Certain people can make sure of that. I believe it’s referred to as political suicide and you’re already standing on the ledge.”

  I wondered if Sasha was referring to Raquel.

  “Are you threatening me?”

  “No, just being honest, Mr. Mayor. Listen, all you have to do is release a statement to the media. There will be no press conference. It’ll be seamless and in a few days it’ll be old news.”

  He mumbled something neither of us could hear, then rubbing his hands across his forehead in frustration, he asked, “Where’s the statement?”

  Just a few hours after that meeting, Malik released his statement.

  “Recently, my wife committed an indiscretion by breaking our marriage vows. She has had the courage to stand before you, as she has done with our family, offering her sincere apologies and asking forgiveness for her transgression. I will admit, we are going through a very difficult time, but this is clearly a personal and private matter for our family, and contrary to false rumors being spread online, and across our city, I unequivocally love my wife and forgive her. As mayor of this city, I say to Philadelphia, in speaking for my wife and myself, we will do better.”

  Late that night, he showed up with his things.

  Chapter 24

  My Little Princess

  Even with Malik home, I wasn’t sleeping too well and there were no more Xanax at my disposal. During the day, no matter how much coffee or energy drinks I ingested, I was still sluggish. I’d scheduled a doctor’s appointment to be checked for anemia, diabetes and possibly depression. With me nearing forty, my plan was to change to a healthier diet, start taking vitamins, sign up with a personal trainer, maybe even cut off my hair. But more than anything, I desperately needed him to prescribe me some sleeping pills.

  Malik had come home, but it was more of an arrangement than a marriage, and for right now, I was okay with that. As expected, we were sleeping in separate rooms, with him staying in the family room until after Nylah was asleep, then retiring to the spare bedroom. He did keep more normal hours, there were no late nights, no excessive drinking, and absolutely no sex between us. I still hadn’t mentioned what I knew about Tootie and Blu Eyes because I wanted him to forgive me without guilting him into it. I was still concerned though, wondering if he had fathered Sheema.

  The only thing that forced us to communicate was Nylah and her upcoming birthday party. We were both looking forward to having some life and laughter back in the house, even if it was only for the day.

  Fo
r the first time, Malik didn’t gripe about the cost, as we’d gone overboard on decorations, party favors, a magic show, and catering for the children, as well as the adults. The biggest expense, of course, was when I surprised Nylah with a beautiful pink and white princess dress, complete with acrylic slippers. Her hair was in a bun, fixed around a glittering tiara. Malik didn’t even object to her wearing a little sheer lip-gloss. Now I understood why couples stayed together for their children.

  Nylah’s happiness and excitement forced us to take family pictures of the three of us while hanging decorations and making up the gifts bags. Malik didn’t even complain about having to ride out to Holmesburg Bakery to pick up the cake. All of this, of course, was to compensate for our broken marriage.

  The hardest part of the day though, would be my having to face not only Tootie, but also Nanny. I didn’t doubt she’d known about her grandson’s affair, and since I hadn’t heard from her, I knew she’d be treating me with disdain because of mine.

  The party promptly began at two with five of Nylah’s classmates and their parents being the first to arrive. Directly behind them was Curtiss with her youngest son, WJ, named after Wesley. I knew Malik would be happy to see them.

  Max and Lynn were the next to arrive, but only stayed long enough to wish Nylah a happy birthday and drop off their gifts. My visibly tired friend, with her swollen legs, had been ordered by her doctor to stay off her feet, which meant she had stopped working.

  Tej and Ana had also been invited and I was always so glad to see the mother and the son who sparked Blessed Babies. And to my delight, Ana brought with her a new healthy six-month-old baby girl, and Christian, her fiancé.

  It didn’t take much to ignore Blu Eyes, who’d slipped in without being noticed, because we’d never had much dialogue anyway. Of course I had no idea he had a three-year-old son, with the same creepy blue eyes as his father.

  As I thought over what had happened, I assumed Blu Eyes never intended to cause Malik harm, but Tootie wanted to destroy me, so she could have my husband.